A Blogger and his Dragon
by johnsarmylady
Summary: Set as part of the AU world of A Trick of the Mind, this latest collection of 221B's contains snippets of Sherlock and John's lives from the point at which John discovers that Sherlock and Mycroft are actually the last dragons on Earth, to the end of their tale. Rated T because I'm not too sure where this will go.
1. A Blogger and his Dragon

**I couldn't help it! I wrote A Trick of the Mind as a short 221B style story, then decided that I really wanted to write odd little chapters about things they did, and cases they solved.  
And so here we are - this won't necessarily be updated every day, but I hope to keep it ticking over for a while with snippets of Sherlock and John's lives from the point at which John discovers that Sherlock and Mycroft are actually the last dragons on Earth, to the end of their tale.  
If you haven't read A Trick of the Mind it may help to do so - I'd recommend it anyway (yes, yes - anything to get you to read my stuff, I know!) because otherwise some of this may not make sense.**

 **Enjoy!**

The stupidity of some members of the human race never seemed to amaze Sherlock.

When they weren't running around killing each other, or stealing from each other, and each thinking they'd never get caught (well, they didn't allow for the genius of the consulting detective, did they?), they were causing havoc just by going about their daily business in their usual blundering fashion.

It was this blundering that led John and Sherlock to where they were now, a blogger and his dragon, sitting in the darkened living room of 221B Baker Street.

In the course of their work the local council had dug up the pavement and cut through power cables. In an effort to fix it they had fractured the gas main. The occupants of the whole street were subject to a freezing night with no heating or access to hot food or drinks.

John sat wrapped in a duvet. Sherlock, having checked on Mrs Hudson, had shut them in and lit the fire.

Every now and then he would blow a brief flame onto a saucepan full of water, and John would carefully take it up and make tea.

And so they sat, toasting bread over the open fire, talking about their old cases, both those John wrote about – and those that dare not make it to the blog.


	2. How to Mend Your Dragon

**This tale takes place shortly after John learns that Sherlock is a dragon...**

John looked at the expanse of blood smeared thigh currently resting on the couch.

"Tell me again what you expect me to do with that." He asked, exasperated, as his flatmate just stared at him.

"You're a doctor John, fix it."

"You're a dragon Sherlock, fix it how?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"That never bothered you before." He said sulkily.

"I didn't know you were a dragon before." Came the swift response. "For all I know I could be poisoning you every time I use anaesthetic or antiseptic solution on you."

"I'm not dead yet am I?"

"You will be soon!" John muttered under his breath as he turned away.

"John!"

"What?"

Silvery eyes looked up pleadingly.

"Please? It hurts..."

Huffing John continued to walk away, but instead of heading to the kitchen he slipped into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

Wiping away the blood the injury revealed itself to be a small peppering of pellets, courtesy of the idiotic bank raider who thought waving a sawn off shotgun would deter the detective.

"This will hurt." John assured him as he sterilised a pair of tweezers and prepared to remove the lead shot.

"Anaesthetic?"

"Nope. I'm still waiting."

"What for?" Sherlock frowned, puzzled.

"For a supply of 'reptile friendly' stuff, being sent up from the zoo in Bristol."


	3. The Wrong Dragon

"Sherlock, watch out!"

John's shout was lost across the expanse of the frozen lake as he watched his friend give chase across the ice.

The perpetrator turned, aiming his gun, yet just as John thought his friend would not survive the encounter a shot rang out, shattering the glassy surface and dropping the consulting detective down into the sub-zero water.

"Shit!" Stepping quickly but cautiously forward John skidded to where he had seen Sherlock sink. He didn't give a damn about the gunman disappearing into the distance; his mind was on the gaping black hole in the ice.

From the bank Lestrade was directing the local force to follow at a distance- just because he had not wanted to shoot Sherlock didn't mean that the perpetrator would be as reluctant to kill an officer- and he watched as with agonising slowness John knelt down and peered into the water before plunging his arm in up to his shoulder.

If this had been Mycroft John would not have worried, but Sherlock being a fire-drake, he wasn't built for the cold.

John had almost given up when his hand brushed against something and he grabbed hold, heaving his spluttering friend to the surface and dragging him mercilessly across ice to the safety of the shore.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he coughed. "B..b..b..bugger!"


	4. Sweet Escape

John watched as Sherlock's nose twitched once, twice, then his tongue flashed out to taste the air.

"Come on John!" he exclaimed, walking swiftly away from the corpse and the collected officers from Scotland Yard.

With a shrug of apology the doctor hurried after him, both of them ignoring Lestrade's dismayed shout of "Oi! Come back!"

Several streets away the flatmates slowed their pace, and Sherlock stared around intently.

"Ah! This will do."

"What? What are you planning now?"

The consulting dragon stepped into the darkened alleyway.

"I know where the murderer is, his scent is very distinctive, and there is only one place in London that still has that amount of sweetness in the air." He said, shrugging out of his coat and handing it to John. "Keep a look out while I change."

"But..." John spluttered, turning his back. "There's too much light..."

"Exactly." Sherlock's voice had taken on a smoky quality. "Light pollution means that no one will believe the shadow they see is actually a real dragon." A soft chuckle accompanied the draping of various other garments over John's shoulder, and a wave of heat warmed the doctor's back.

He turned.

"What will you do?"

"Give you a new case to blog about." Sherlock grinned. "Take my things home, I'll fill you in when I get back."


	5. Righteous Killer

It went against the grain with John to cover up a crime, especially when that crime was tantamount to murder, but when he noticed the large reptilian footprints in the soft damp earth he moved to subtly obliterate them.

Sherlock looked across at his furtive movement and frowned.

The shake of his head was barely noticeable, but he knew the consulting detective saw it plainly enough.

"Well," Lestrade stared down at the remains of the makeshift shelter and the overturned camping stove. "Looks like we'll save ourselves the cost of a trial."

"Once you have irrefutable evidence that the corpse is Cummings." John spoke up.

"I'd bet my reputation on the fact." Sherlock smirked, making John wince internally. He was really sailing too close to the wind this time.

"Okay genius, stop showing off." He said pointedly, nodding towards the path leading out of the trees. "If you're done here maybe we can leave Greg to it?"

They walked in silence until they reached the road.

"What have I done?" The question was quietly asked.

"You killed a killer." John replied equally quietly. "I can't condone it, but I can understand it."

"Was I wrong to do it?" Sherlock looked worried.

"No... no I don't think so," John's smile was fond. "Just don't make a habit of it you daft bugger."


	6. Better Than

**Special thanks go to MapleleafCameo for letting me steal the title of one of her wonderful stories - if you haven't read it already then you really should - but beware the Johnlock...lolololol!**

It was a weakness of his.

Mycroft knew that, but so did his brother.

And it seemed that his brother, now that he had a friend in whom he could confide had become worse than ever, for now little gifts kept appearing in his office.

It started with rich, creamy vanilla. Not quite warm enough to be runny, yet not cold enough to survive the remainder of the day.

Mycroft sent a text to his brother, then breathed on the box and thoroughly chilled it.

There followed, on a daily basis, raspberry ripple and Neapolitan, then slightly more upmarket rum and raisin and pistachio.

The text he sent after this simply said 'Cease and desist!'

Yet still he chilled each box as it arrived.

Exotic ones came next.

Mycroft detected John's hand in this as a succession of coconut and Belgian chocolate, Amaretto and even Turkish Delight arrived. Anthea was curious, but in her well trained way said nothing.

Every evening, despite promising himself that he would ignore each and every box, Mycroft succumbed.

The last straw was the Mince Pie flavour.

It was nearly Christmas, and that in itself was always hard for a dragon with a sweet tooth, but one addicted to ice cream? It was torture.

Frustrated beyond measure, he finally called his sibling.

"It stops now brother!"


	7. John Watson Gains a Fan

It had been the hottest July on record, and the Met Office had forecast an increase in temperature during August.

Since Afghanistan John was rarely one to complain about heat, but as the temperature soared he moped around the flat looking distinctly unhappy.

"I'm tempted to ring your brother and ask him to come over and cool this place down a bit." He said, spreading a sheet over the couch.

Sherlock watched him with a frown.

"He has no self-control, he'd freeze us all to death… John what are you doing?"

"Putting a sheet on the couch."

"Obvious John. Dare I ask why?"

John smirked.

"Obvious Sherlock." He mimicked. "In this heat the leather gets sweaty and bloody uncomfortable, at least if I lay on a sheet it won't be such an issue."

"What's wrong with your bed?"

"Heat rises."

Sherlock shrugged and said no more, John opened both the kitchen and the living room windows in the hopes of catching a cross breeze, stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and lay down.

He didn't say anything when Sherlock went out a little later, nor when he came back smirking shortly afterwards. He did, however, grin broadly when later that evening Sherlock sat reading to him, an ornate fan held in the end of his tail creating a cool breeze.


	8. Shocktober

**Welcome to the first of my annual forays into the witchy world of Halloween... and what better company to spend it in that that of a Blogger and his Dragon!**

John had tried to impress upon Sherlock the need to not forget Mrs Hudson, not to underestimate the effect he might have on her if she saw him in his dragon form.

He really didn't anticipate having to save the day and get them out of the mess that happened when Sherlock disregarded his words.

xXx

It was the last week of October, and the nights were drawing in.

Sherlock had always assumed that once it got dark if there were no clients at the door, then Mrs Hudson would stay in her flat and not bother her tenants. In fact, years of her doing just that had led to an unforgivable degree of carelessness.

This particular evening they were conducting an experiment. Sherlock in his dragon form stood absolutely motionless while John, with his standard medical kit, tried to perform a standard 'human' examination, to see how heartbeat, blood pressure and similar readings compared to when in human form.

They were so engrossed that they didn't hear the door open until it was too late.

Mrs Hudson screamed and dropped the tray of hot cocoa she was carrying.

Thinking quick, John shoved Sherlock along towards the bedroom before putting a comforting arm around their landlady.

"Don't worry Mrs H," He said calmly "it's just his costume for my sister's Halloween bash!"


	9. Mischief (or Shocktober Pt 2)

**And of course, we had to see Mrs Hudson's side of the Halloween debacle!**

Kneeling down beside Mrs Hudson, John helped to pick up the pieces of broken crockery. It was, he thought to himself, quite lucky that she had chosen to bring the drinks up in an odd collection of old mugs and not in her best china.

Sherlock walked out of his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry Mrs Hudson," he said contritely. "I was just..."

"Yes I heard." Their landlady didn't sound either happy or, if they were honest with themselves, convinced. "And what was John doing with his medical kit, that's what I'd like to know!"

The flatmates looked at each other for a brief moment, then

"He was trying to see if he could hear my heartbeat. I complained that the costume was far too thick and he said if he could hear my heartbeat or at least take my blood pressure through it then it would be fine,"

Helping the elderly lady up and guiding her to a seat, John hurried to the kitchen and quickly made her a cup of tea.

Sherlock proceeded to sit down and complain that John was making him go to Harry's party.

Unconvinced, Mrs Hudson looked at them over the rim of her cup.

"Don't go thinking I don't know about the mischief you get up to behind my back!"


	10. Christmas Presents Pt 1

Sherlock hadn't noticed John's smirk as he was currently engaged in trying to solve the Rubik's Cube that John had given him. It had been a daft little present to John's mind, but having realised that his friend had never even seen one before (where on earth had he been living in the eighties?) he couldn't resist hunting one down and wrapping it in the glitziest paper he could find.

He had chuckled at Sherlock's look of distaste at the sparkly Christmas trees and glitter covered snowflakes, but had watched how curiosity had eventually got the better of him.

"Did you have one of these as a child?" Sherlock's voice snapped John out of his reverie.

He grinned.

"I did."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And how long did it take you to solve it?"

John tried not to laugh at his friend's expression when he replied "Oh, about an hour."

Sherlock looked at the cube, piqued. He had already been trying for nearly an hour.

Putting his friend out of his misery John admitted "I peeled the coloured stickers off and re-stuck them!"

"But that's cheating!" The consulting dragon was outraged.

"Yes, but..." John began, but Sherlock stopped him, holding up his hand.

"There can be no excuse for cheating John."

"It wasn't _really_ cheating Sherlock, I was just using my brain."


	11. Christmas Presents Pt 2

John looked up from the gift he had just unwrapped. His sister may not have been the best sister in the world, nor the most sober, but she had a knack for finding Christmas gifts that John would enjoy. Except maybe this year was a little different.

Trying not to let Sherlock see the gift he slipped it under his chair and proceeded to open the parcel from Mrs Hudson.

As usual, she had gifted him with a home made scarf and gloves, always a bit odd looking, but they kept his hands warm. John grinned and proudly showed them off to his friend.

Sherlock held up a matching set.

"I really should tell her that I don't need them." He said with a smile.

"But you won't." John replied. "You'll do what I do every year and give last year's set to one of your homeless friends.

Heaving himself out of his chair John glanced at his watch.

"Time for the first of many turkey sandwiches I think."

"What about that present you're trying to hide?"

"What...?" The older man flushed scarlet.

"Yes, that one. The one your sister gave you."

"I... um..."

"I won't be offended." Sherlock already knew why John had hidden it. "After all, I suggested she buy you the complete Hobbit film set in a box."


End file.
